


Sergio's Calendar

by dierdele



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: dele is a little shit, maybe even a bit of sergio/harry kane, there's a bit of dele/eric if you squint, this was a drabble that i figured i'll post on here too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27578647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dierdele/pseuds/dierdele
Summary: Sergio has a Tottenham Hotspur 2018 desk calendar, marking off the days until his birthday. He's pretty sure absolutely nobody on the team has even remembered.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	Sergio's Calendar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JustinTimberlake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustinTimberlake/gifts).



_November 11th, 2020._

Sergio’s been at Tottenham Hotspur for one month, three weeks, five days, and about fourteen hours. He knows this because every morning he wakes up at 7am on the dot, rubs his eyes, stretches, checks his phone, and then crosses another day off on his Tottenham Hotspur 2018 desk calendar - the only one they had lying around when Sergio pestered the player liaison officer to get him a calendar. 

November’s month is Harry and Sonny celebrating after beating Chelsea 3-0 at Wembley. Sergio looks at it every morning and grins, even though he wasn’t a part of the team then. Harry and Sonny didn’t even know about him. Sergio, of course, knew about Harry and Sonny though. He wasn’t there for that 3-0 win, hasn’t even _been_ to Wembley, but every morning when he wakes up and looks at that photo, he feels pride growing in his chest. _That’s my club,_ he thinks, as he dashes a line through another day. 

Today is one of those early training days, meaning they all have to report in at Hotspur Way by no later than 8:30am. Anyone who turns up late is punished with extra drills and the clearing up. It’s actually Sergio’s preferred way to train. Bright, early, and when he’s full of energy and raring to go. Everyone else is usually yawning, wrestling their tired bodies into training gear and football boots and complaining about how disgustingly _early_ it is. But not Sergio. Sergio is already laced up, wrapped up, and grinning at the rest of the team when they ask him _how are you so energetic and happy at this hour, Reggy!?_

He tells them he’s just an early bird and always has been. But that’s not the truth. The truth is Sergio just really likes his teammates and really likes training. He’s been here for one month, three weeks, five days, and about fourteen hours, and he’s loved every single second of it. He almost doesn’t even _want_ to cross another day off his calendar, because that’s another day closer to this all coming to an end. 

-

_November 30th, 2020._

It’s the day Sergio has been waiting for with the kind of nervous energy that makes his leg bounce. He’s been having nightmares about this day, been haunted in training by this day, even put a little scared face in red marker pen for this day on his Tottenham Hotspur 2018 desk calendar.

“Excited?” Eric asks him in the player’s canteen over a bowl of blueberry porridge. Eric Dier eats enough blueberry porridge for like, six people. Easily. Sergio finds it fascinating just watching him. 

“Mhm,” Sergio nods and bites the inside of his mouth anxiously. 

“Has Jose told y-”

“He told me, yes,” Sergio answers. “Told me, what will happen.” A small, almost silent whimper escapes him. _Almost_ silent. Because Eric hears it and looks at him with concern.

“Estas bien?” Eric asks in Spanish, because he’s the kind of guy who often speaks to Sergio in Spanish to make him feel more at ease. Sergio really likes that about Eric. “You look worried.” 

Sergio _is_ worried. He wants to do a good job here, wants to impress, wants to make friends. And how well he fits in at this club all comes down to what happens today, on November 30th, 2020. Judgement day. Reckoning day. He barely even has any control over it. In fact, he has _no_ control over it. It’s happening whether he likes it or not and he needs to be prepared. 

“I want to do a tasty job…” Sergio mumbles.

“Mm, that’s not the right word. Say ‘good’,” Eric corrects politely. Sergio screws his face up in embarrassment. _Not tasty. Good._ He wants to do a good job. 

“Shall we, then?” Eric asks, signaling towards the double doors where the team are casually beginning to make their way out of the canteen, chatting and laughing with each other. It’s time to go. Eric hasn’t finished his sixth bowl of blueberry porridge yet but it’s time to go. Sergio isn’t ready for this. He can barely remember how to form English sentences anymore.. 

“We will go that way,” Sergio blurts out. It’s all he can manage, and he’s only about 87% sure all of those words were even in English. “To the judgement.” 

“The judgement?” Eric laughs. He laughs so wide and happy and easy. Sergio wishes he had the calm and laid back nature of Eric Dier. “It’s not that deep, bro.”

“Okay, then.” Sergio gets up and follows Eric out of the canteen. They make their way to the player lounge where Dele is laid out across one of the sofas eating gummy worms. Erik Lamela is filming Giovani and Davinson. Hugo and Harry are having a hushed conversation in the corner about golf. The mood is… relaxed. 

Sergio feels his toes curl inside his trainers in nervous anticipation of what comes next. 

Jose walks into the room and the chatter stops. 

“Okay,” Jose starts. He stands at the front, authoritative and cool and just like, the best manager Sergio has ever worked with. That’s what makes this day even scarier. _It could be Jose._ “Is everybody ready?” 

Sergio can feel his face screwing up again. His heart is already in his throat. _What if I mess this up? What if they hate me? What if I get it all wrong-_

“Sergie,” Eric’s soothing voice comes out of nowhere, like an angel from the heavens sent to protect him. He places a steady hand on Sergio’s shoulder and smiles reassuringly at him. “It’s just secret santa, it’s fine. We do it every year.” 

_Just secret santa,_ Sergio repeats back to himself in disbelief. _Just secret santa!?_ It’s not _just_ secret santa, it’s the scariest day of the year because this is the day when Sergio finds out who he needs to buy for. How well he makes friends here, how well he fits in, how much these people like him all comes down to his secret santa gift. 

Dele had told him all of the stories, about how one year some guy named Janssen got Harry Kane in the draw, and he got him such a bad gift that Janssen was immediately sold to a team in Mexico and put on a plane that same night, on Harry’s orders. Or how Kevin Wimmer got Pochettino a bottle of cooking oil that caused spontaneous erections because of some weird ingredient from China. Kevin Wimmer was immediately transferred out, even though Sonny pleaded for him to be forgiven. Dele also told him there’s no budget, but that the amount you spend correlates to how much you like that person. On the day of the exchange, Dele said, Jose takes notes. 

“But… but if you get someone something they don’t like, they get to throw it at you, right? Dele told me.” Sergio’s so stressed out right now that he has to talk to Spanish. 

Eric looks at him with pity. “No, Sergio… no, we don’t do that. I think Dele might have been winding you up.” 

Sergio looks across the room and catches Dele’s eye, who winks back at him.

“So… if I get Jose, I don’t have to spend over a million euros?”

Eric sighs and sends Dele an unimpressed look across the room. “No, Sergie, you don’t need to spend that much on anyone. We don’t usually go over £100. If you get Jose, just get him something for his car or to cook with.” 

Sergio nods, grateful for the advice. _Not cooking oil, though,_ he thinks to himself wistfully. Dele might have been having him on about the budget, but thank God he warned Sergio about the erection cooking oil. 

-

_December 15th_

13th, 14th, 15th… Sergio wakes up and crosses off another day on his Tottenham Hotspur 2018 desk calendar. Just one more day until his birthday. 

He’s simultaneously excited and upset about it. On one hand, he’ll get lots of nice presents from his family back in Madrid and his grandma has sent a cake over to him. On the other hand, he can’t see them because of travel restrictions. With next to no friends in London yet, it means that without family, he’ll be spending the day alone at his new apartment.

He wishes his birthday had fallen on a training day so that he at least could see his teammates and have something to do all day. Maybe he’d even treat himself to something sweet at lunch if he could get away with it. But his birthday is a Thursday, and this week’s training days are Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Saturday. So no teammates and no celebrations. 

He tries not to feel too disappointed when he gets to training on the Wednesday and nobody mentions it. He tries not to let it show on his face when Harry Kane barely speaks to him that morning because he’s so focused on his shooting practice. He tries not to look too sad when Dele asks him if he’s got anything planned for his days off, but shows no indication of knowing it’s Sergio’s birthday. 

Dele tells him he’ll probably play video games with his brother and order a pizza. Sergio smiles wistfully. He’d love to play video games with Dele and eat pizza with him. Especially on his birthday. 

In the afternoon, Toby accidentally slide tackles him in a game of 5 a side, bruising his ankle in the process. 

When Sergio walks into the gaming room an hour later to join the boys on Fifa, they all begin to pack away, telling Sergio he’s joined them too late to play now. 

Back out in the final training session, he misses two chances to get his 5 a side team ahead and delivers a poor cross to Harry, who groans in frustration. 

His feedback from Jose at the end of the session is, “you were distracted today, you need to control your distractions, Sergio.” 

It’s the worst feedback he’s got so far and it makes him feel like absolute shit. But it’s nothing compared to how Harry Kane’s disappointment felt. 

At 6pm, he clears up the cones on the training pitch alone and lets his imagination take over for a moment. He imagines walking to his car with Harry Kane and Harry wishing him a happy birthday for tomorrow. He imagines Harry giving him a hug, or asking Sergio to add him on the PS4 so that they can play something together. He imagines being invited into one of the WhatsApp group chats, or added back by everyone on Snapchat. He imagines waking up to birthday messages from the whole team, and maybe even a few Instagram stories.

“Reggy!” A voice calls out. Sergio turns to see Erik Lamela waving at him from the side of the pitch. It’s dark and bitterly cold now, with a heavy black sky looming over the bright floodlights of Hotspur Way. “We are going home hermano! See you Saturday!” 

Sergio waves back and forces a smile. He waits, but Erik doesn’t say anything else, just turns his back and walks inside where Giovani is waiting for him by the door. 

He pretends that doesn’t hurt. _4th of March and 9th of April,_ he thinks to himself. Coco and Gio’s birthdays. 

Sergio packs up the rest of the cones and heads inside. His body is tired and heavy and there’s a horrible sadness growing in his chest at the thought of spending his birthday alone and not in Madrid. 

Some of the boys are still milling about inside when Sergio finally gets changed back into his normal clothes ready to leave. Dele’s huddled with Eric, holding a conversation under their breath in the corner of the lobby, probably about an inside joke or a group chat that Sergio will never be a part of. He’s pretty sure they’re actually dating but no one has officially confirmed it.

“I’m going now,” Sergio announces flatly.

“Bye, see you Saturday,” Eric says back. “Oh, and I forgot to say-” 

Time freezes as Sergio feels his breath catch in his throat. 

“-I hope your ankle is feeling better.”

“Okay, bye guys.” Sergio bolts out the door before they can say anything else. It’s so stupid that he’s actually got tears prickling the corner of his eyes, but he moved here for _this_ team. He moved to an entirely different country and is teaching himself a language he barely speaks, so that he can be a part of _this_ success _,_ be friends with _these_ people. And now he doesn’t feel like he’s even wanted here. 

And no, his ankle doesn’t feel better, it’s sore and bruised - like his heart.

-

_December 16th_

Sergio wakes up to the sound of his phone vibrating. 

**_Your Royal Mail parcel will be delivered in the next 60 minutes by your driver, Ash._ **

He groans and rolls back over, letting the phone clatter down on the bedside table carelessly. 

Thirty minutes later, he’s rewoken by another text message. 

**_Your Royal Mail parcel will be delivered in the next 30 minutes by your driver, Ash._ **

Sergio rubs his eyes and looks at the time. 9:33am. He stares up at the ceiling aimlessly and feels the inevitable sadness wash over him. It’s his birthday but the apartment is completely silent. If he were back in Madrid, the house would be alive with the sound of family fussing over him, the dogs barking, his dad rustling up breakfast in the kitchen whilst singing along to the cheerful Spanish radio.

In the back of his mind, he can hear his mum’s voice, _feliz umpleaños mi bebe!_

Instead, silence. Building work going on a few blocks away. Car horns that have become an everyday part of living in London. Someone yelling in the street below. 

Sergio takes a deep breath and looks at his phone again. There’s a bunch of unread text messages, all from friends and family in Spain, and a few missed calls and FaceTimes. He’s not in the mood to call them or reply to their texts yet because he knows it will just make him even sadder, so he ignores them for the time being and sits up in bed, trying to decide what on earth he’s going to do with his day. 

_16th December. Happy birthday to me._ He crosses the day off on his Tottenham Hotspur 2018 desk calendar and glances at the image again of Harry and Sonny celebrating. He chews his bottom lip and looks down at the floor, knowing he probably won’t hear from any of them today.

At least his cake is being delivered in half an hour. He figures he’s feeling sorry for himself enough to justify having birthday cake for breakfast.

 _Get it together, Sergie,_ he tells himself. He clambers out of bed and carries himself to the shower, forcing his body to relax under the scalding water. In Spain, he only had hot showers maybe two or three times a year, on particularly cold days or when he’d been swimming in a cold lake. But here, there’s no choice - it’s always so damn cold. His skin isn’t quite used to it yet and he always leaves the shower with a tingly, overly sensitive feeling all over his skin. 

_Ding!_

Sergio pauses mid-shower and listens out, and sure enough, the doorbell rings again. His cake is here ten minutes early. If he wasn’t looking forward to seeing his grandma’s message on it, he would have just left it and finished his shower, but he misses his family today more than ever and that’s a little bit of home at the door, so he turns off the water and hops out of the shower, grabbing the nearest towel and haphazardly dragging it around his waist in a hurry. 

He’s dripping wet, with nothing but a towel slung around his waist. He almost trips over a pair of trainers when he launches himself at the door to greet the postman. 

Except, it’s not the postman.

“Happy birthday!” Eric Dier shouts, grinning on Sergio’s doorstep. He’s not alone either. Erik Lamela, Giovani, Sonny, Dele, and Pierre are all standing outside of his apartment building, and they’re all holding silly gift bags and wearing cheap, brightly-coloured party hats. They look utterly ridiculous. 

“Did we uh, interrupt you?” Dele asks, gesturing to the fact Sergio is dripping water down his bare chest. “Shall we come back later?” 

“No, no, I-” Sergio can’t find the words, or can’t remember them. His brain has turned to an emotional mush and he’s fighting the urge to burst into tears. “What are you…”

“We’re here for your birthday, hermano!” Erik declares. He pushes through the gathering to give Sergio an affectionate head scrub. “We came as six so we wouldn’t be arrested.”

“But now we are seven, no?” Sonny points out with a high degree of concern. 

“Oh yeah, go home then, Sonny,” Dele jokes, earning himself a shove in the chest. 

“I thought-” Sergio begins. 

“Thought we forgot?” Eric laughs. He holds another carrier bag up. “Can we come in, then? We brought breakfast.” 

“H is on his way, he’s running late because Ivy wanted to draw you a picture for your birthday before he left.” Dele adds as an afterthought when everyone begins to pile inside. 

Sergio holds his hand out, stopping Dele in his tracks. “H-Harry? Kane?”

“Yeah, H. Winksy is going to come over too but he said he wouldn’t be up for half nine because he’s a lazy shit.”

“Harry Kane is coming…” Sergio processes the thought. “For... my birthday?”

“Course bro, yeah, this was his idea,” Dele answers a little impatiently, like it’s obvious, and then he rushes on towards the kitchen with the others. “I want extra syrup, Eric! If you eat all the syrup I’ll kill you.”

Sergio’s standing on the doorstep of his apartment building in just a towel, still wet from his half-finished shower. Behind him, he can hear a ruckus in the kitchen, and someone dropping a pan, and someone else going into the fridge. A second later, there’s music. _Spanish_ music. Erik Lamela cheers and begins to sing along. 

There’s a vibration in Sergio’s hand that pulls him out of his daze. It’s a text message on his phone. He actually has 14 unread messages and a bunch of new WhatsApps. 

_Happy birthday reggy! Sorry i hurt you yesterday i hope your ok :( have a beer on me!!_ 🍺 _Toby._

_joyeux anniversaire little one! Love big bro moussa._

🥳🎉🥳🎉🥳🎉 _HAPPY BDAYY REGY_ 🎂🎂 _SAVE SOME CAKE FOR MEEE. See you soon twin lots of love winksy x_

Sergio reads through a series of messages from the team, the lump in his throat getting bigger with each text. And then grins to himself with pure joy when he sees that Gareth Bale has posted an Instagram story wishing him happy birthday with a red heart and a photo of them hugging. 

Finally, he checks WhatsApp. There’s a new group, _Spuds Buds,_ and there’s 56 unread messages - and counting. Everyone in the team is in this and they’re all wishing Sergio a happy birthday. 

“REGGY, WHERE ARE YOUR EGGS?” Dele calls out from the kitchen. Sergio smiles and looks down the street before closing the front door. Harry isn’t here yet, but he will be soon. This was all his idea, after all. 

_December 16th_ might be Sergio’s favourite day yet. Breakfast with the boys, Fifa with Dele, birthday cake from his grandma, and a drawing from Harry Kane’s daughter. Sergio doesn’t stop smiling and laughing all day, even when Lamela insists on giving him his birthday digs, or when Dele teases him about the secret santa prank. 

The best part of Sergio’s day though is when he opens his present from Harry Kane.

A 2020 Tottenham Hotspur desk calendar.


End file.
